


(Not Just The) Hale Pack Bitch

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (It's only mentioned - no one gets pregnant), (kind of), (of a sort), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Angst, Asexual Character, Canonical Character Death, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Depression, Divorce, F/M, Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Pack Dynamics, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Sterek End-game, Suicide Attempt, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is given to the Hale's at fourteen. They promise to take care of him, in exchange for using his body. One problem: they ignore his mental well-being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not Just The) Hale Pack Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> I love a/b/o dynamics, and all of the wonderful kinky fic that comes out of it, but nothing ever satisfies my desire to explore the astounding lack of agency that is so prevalent in the trope. 
> 
> This turned out differently than I wanted. Please read the tags and if you want further information, check the end notes.
> 
> If I missed any tags, please let me know.

"Hey Dad," Stiles says, "if Mom was an omega, and meant to be a pack bitch, why didn't she go over to the Hale's more often?"

The Sheriff knows what he is supposed to say. He and Talia discussed this, because John knew exactly what Stiles would say. Too sharp, too curious for his own good. John wishes he weren't as sharp, bright and precocious; John wishes Claudia was still alive; John wishes they weren't in this position.

John wishes for a lot of things.

"Because… I don't know, kiddo. Having a mate helped." It's not what he's meant to say. John's meant to feed his kid some line about Claudia's illness and instability and tie that back to not being the pack bitch. But thinking about Claudia hurts and he can't outright lie to his kid, give him the impression that Claudia died because she wasn't getting fucked daily by a pack. Her illness hadn't been caused by anything related to her biology. John knows; he's asked, researched, sought out advice from the best medical experts in the field. It wasn't because she was omega; it wasn't because she hadn't had regular sex; it wasn't something they could have altered or prevented in any way.

Talia wants him to lie to his kid. "It'll make his transition easier," she told him. "I don't want to frighten him, but if he thinks he might get the same disease and can take steps to prevent it, he'll enjoy the process more." And John had nodded, agreed to the fucked up logic, and vowed to help Stiles in whatever way possible. 

But now, faced with Stiles' bright brown eyes and intense look, he can't lie. Can't tell him the truth, either, that Claudia had been better when she wasn't getting fucked, because tomorrow he has to hand his fourteen year old kid over to the Hale Pack, and watch as they turn his too-sharp, too-smart Stiles into a trained whore. 

He's a coward. 

\---

John drinks himself to sleep for the next week, then destroys all of the alcohol in his house, and takes up drinking coffee by the gallon. He carefully avoids Laura Hale in the station when possible, and doesn't think about Stiles. 

(Except he does, all the time, especially when he catches Laura laughing at something Parrish says or when they all get called in for a major accident and she stumbles in half-asleep. He wants to say something, wants to rage and scream, but he swallows the sounds down, and works until he's exhausted. 

It helps. He still hates the Hale's, but he can talk to Talia, look at Laura at work, and nod politely to Peter when he sees the werewolf around town. 

Peter always returns the greeting with a vaguely amused air, as though he knows what John feels. He probably does, enhanced senses and all, but John doesn't care. He's an officer of the law; he's not going to let his emotions run rampant.)

\---

Stiles doesn't remember much of the small ceremony that ties him to the Hale Pack, making him the pack bitch - 

"Hale Whore," Peter says, laughing slightly. "After all, we can whore you out, now."

"Peter!" Talia hisses, and then, "Don't listen to him, Stiles sweetie. We wouldn't whore you out, you're meant just for us."

\- and taking him away from everything he's ever known. It's small, his dad, the Hale's, Dr. Deaton, and Mayor Whittemore in attendance; he has to sign a paper, there are some vows made, but there are no magical proceedings or mating bites or anything of the sort. He feels almost cheated. He'd been expecting some elaborate ritual, everyone - or at least Talia - biting him, so he'd be tied to them forever. Instead, it's mundane and simple, and Stiles still feels like Stiles when he walks into his new home. 

He spends the next four years wishing there had been something magical and mystical about the ceremony, so he could forget himself, so Stiles Stilinski, fourteen year old mischief loving son of the Sheriff could have died, and someone, something empty and mindless could have taken his place.

"Now Stiles," Talia starts, when he walks inside the Hale mansion at her side. "We've got some rules you'll need to follow. They're for your own good, okay? And you will be punished if you don't obey them. Don't panic-" she assures him, when Stiles' heart drops and he stares at her in panic. "They're simple, and we won't punish you too severely at the start, just enough to enforce them." 

The rules are simple, because they strip away his ability to do anything. Even fourteen year old Stiles can recognize that. Obey commands, please the Hale's, don't talk back. 

He's basically a pet. 

Sure, he's allowed his own room, but the door doesn't lock. And most nights, someone else is in there with him, if he's not in another bed. He's not restricted from the furniture, but it doesn't matter, because usually he's on a lap or kneeling between thighs. He's fed - by hand, while kneeling at the table, or allowed to eat after the Hale's eat and he's gotten everyone off - and clothed, though his clothes are picked for him and he doesn't wear them often. 

The commands differ, but they're not bad. He's not hurt often, except by Peter, who likes to spank him and twist his nipples and grab him too tight. But Peter doesn't leave marks. 

He's even allowed to finish high school. Online, of course, but the charter school he attends is one of the best in the nation, and he manages to take AP classes still. 

It's not too bad.

(Stiles tells himself that, as he sits between Talia's thighs, a gag in his mouth attached to Talia's favorite dildo. Every now and then, she'll move and his nose will rub against her clit, and Talia will sigh in pleasure and pet him. 

"You're amazing, sweetie," she coos at him, and then her fingers tighten in his hair - grown out so they can fist it - so she can fuck herself on Stiles' face. When it's over and he's allowed to sit back and take the gag out, his face is sticky and his jaw hurts.)

\---

The first heat hits two months after he moves in. Talia ties him to his bed with soft rope, enough slack in the bonds so they can move him around. 

"It's for your own good," she insists, petting his hair. "You won't be able to hurt yourself, and we can help you out the best way possible."

And: "Eventually you won't need this. It's just until you get used to your heats."

Stiles cries quietly. 

\---

Derek is the first to fuck him during his heat. It surprises Stiles, because Derek's the youngest male in the famle. Peter or Mark, Talia's husband, should have gone first. They must have drawn straws or something. 

Derek is gentle. Opens him up more than necessary, even adds extra lube even though Stiles is already, naturally, slick. Whispers tender things into his ear, like, "You're perfect, Stiles," and "You feel so amazing," and "You look beautiful like this." 

He trembles in Derek's arms, with Derek pounding into him, and tries to ignore everything. It's not difficult; he lets go and floats away, and just accepts the sensations. When he orgasms, thanks to the constant pounding against his prostate, he rides it out, and pretends it is something else entirely. 

When Derek is locked into him, cumming in spurts, Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and just holds him. It feels okay. Not great, but not horrible, either.

It terrifies Stiles.

\---

Laura is an Alpha female, much like her mother, and has all the appropriate parts. When she finally ties into Stiles on the second and last day of his heat, she curls around him, runs a hand down his stomach, and grasps his tiny cock. It's been limp the entire heat, which they said was normal, and Stiles has almost forgotten about the thing. 

"This looks a little ignored," she comments, and brings her palm to Stiles' mouth so he can lick. When it's nice and sloppy, she strokes his cock, watching as it stiffens in her hand. Stiles tries to close his eyes, only to be stopped. 

"Watch, little omega," Laura says, almost gleeful. "Your little cock is so cute in my hands, and when you cum, it's only going to spurt a little cum. But it'll make you clench so beautifully around my knot."

She's right, though it takes a few minutes for that to happen. Stiles feels sick as he watches, but there's no fighting the orgasm that rushes over him, makes him tremble and sigh, and spurt cum into Laura's hand and tighten around her knot. 

He licks his cum off her hand, and when she pulls out, cleans off her knot.

\---

It's hard for Stiles to orgasm outside of heats and none of the Hale's have enough time to devote to making him cum. It disappoints Peter sometimes, and he'll drag out the paddles, but that just makes everything worse.

He feels the best when he's cuddled up with Derek, who expects nothing from him and will talk to him, not at him, when they're tied together. It's uncomfortable and weird, but not unusually so, and he doesn't feel a sense of dread when Derek looks at him, the way he does with Peter or Talia. Sometimes, he wishes Derek were around more, and not off at college most of the year.

Heats are different. Stiles orgasms at the slightest pressure on his prostate or someone tugging at his cock. It's not fun, like everyone promised, and while he doesn't hate it, not really, he doesn't enjoy the orgasms. 

He feels broken, sometimes, when Talia or Laura frown at him and try to get him to orgasm again and again, or when Peter laughs at him and calls him a whore. 

\---

"A little to the left," Talia instructs, breaking off her conversation with Mark. "You're getting lax, Stiles. Don't make me punish you."

Talia's punishments aren't as severe as Peter's punishments are, but Stiles hates being punished no matter what. It makes him feel like a child, demeans his ability to rationalize, and usually ends up hurting, so he moves his tongue, seeking out the spot Talia mentioned. Above him, Talia and Mark resume their conversation. 

"Cora's going to Boston with Lydia," Talia says. Stiles can only pay so much attention to the conversation, because she notices when he's not focused, but he's gotten good pleasuring the alpha, and he's good at extrapolating. They're talking about college, he knows. Cora's leaving, just in time for Derek to come back full time, not just holidays and summers. 

It triggers something in him. Stiles has finished his classes, has a high school diploma from an accredited school. He hasn't applied anywhere - hasn't even thought about it - but he's fully capable of going off to university.

Claudia went to university, far away from her pack. There had been no problem, and it was even where she met John. Perhaps the Hale's will let him go to college. He'll be back during holidays, summers, and return once he graduates, so it wouldn't be like he's abandoning his place. Surely they can't deny him an education.

He wants this. Wants to go somewhere and interact with more people, learn everything possible, be more than just the Hale Pack bitch. He wouldn't have to leave the state. There are a few California State Universities within a five or six hour drive. Hell, even Beacon Hills Community College would work, if he couldn't get into something bigger. 

"Stiles!" Talia says, and Stiles jolts back to the present, realizing he had stopped licking her out. He flushes as Talia tugs his head back, frowning at him. "What did I tell you?"

"I'm sorry," Stiles says. "I just got distracted-"

"What is more important than pleasing me?" Talia narrows her eyes at him and shoves him away, hushing him when Stiles tries to speak. "I don't care what you were thinking about. There is nothing more important, Stiles. You are an omega. It is your right to please me. And right now, you're being a bad omega. Go stand in your corner, facing the wall, until I tell you to move. Think about how you are failing your role and how you'll improve that. Also, you'll get no dinner tonight."

Stiles swallows and stands up. He has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from protesting. Skipping dinner isn't a big deal, but the lecture, and the corner. Those are horrible. He hates the corner, almost more than Peter paddling him, because he hates standing still for that long. And the way Talia talks to him - it makes him sick. He's eighteen and intelligent, not the mindless, sex-addicted child Talia seems to think of him as. 

He's not allowed clothes in the corner, so he strips and takes up his spot, thinking. Not about his role as omega, but about how he can convince Talia to let him go to college.

\---

"We'll think about it," Talia tells him, a week later. Stiles is sitting on Mark's cock while Talia toys with his nipples. It was the only time he could bring up the possibility of college, awkward as it is, and Stiles can't say anything else, because Laura interrupts. 

It's still on his mind weeks later, and he tentatively brings it up over breakfast. It's one of the few times he's not engaged in doing something else, instead seated at the table, wearing actual clothes. He feels human for once, and channels that feeling.

"Did you think about college?" 

"Oh, thank you for bringing that up." Talia grins at him, scoops more eggs onto his plate and ruffles his hair. "I forgot to tell you about our decision. I'm so glad we decided on it, it'll be wonderful."

"You're going to let me go?"

"What? No, of course not. It's even better. We know you haven't been happy-" And Stiles' heart thuds in his chest, unable to listen, because this is what he's been waiting for since he arrived. He's going to be free. "-And since Derek's home now, we decided to get you pregnant. You'll make a wonderful mother and it will help you settle."

His heart plummets. Pregnant?

He doesn't want a child. He likes kids well enough, but only in a vague, distant sort of way, the way he likes roses and pictures of kittens and puppies. He doesn't want to have a child of his, especially when he's only eighteen. 

"Well?" Talia asks, smiling at him. "What do you think?"

"Great," Stiles croaks, after a beat of silence. At the end of the table, Peter cackles. 

\---

"Be good," Laura says, tousling his hair. "We'll be back later."

"I will," Stiles says, smiling at her. It's easy to smile and nod and even laugh with them. He feels light, free from everything, much like the night of his first heat. There's a lingering sadness, but it's not enough to make him pause. 

"Sorry we can't take you with us," Derek says, grimacing. He looks like he doesn't want to go, would rather stay home and cuddle with Stiles. And he does look genuinely apologetic that they aren't taking Stiles. 

(They never take Stiles. It's nothing personal, they tell him every time they go out without him. It's just Stiles isn't capable of dealing with crowds, doesn't have the right clothes, wouldn't entirely fit in at the restaurant they're going to - excuse after excuse. Politely worded, of course, but they all boil down to the fact that Talia thinks of him as a mindless toy who'd jump anyone to fuck. 

Stiles doesn't mind. He likes being alone; it's the only freedom he gets.)

"I don't mind," he tells Derek. "It's a family celebration, I get that."

"You _are_ family," Derek says. It's an old argument between them, though Stiles isn't sure how it is an argument - he's not supposed to argue. Derek insists he's family, Stiles says whatever, and they usually drop it until something else like this comes up. 

Stiles never points out that normal families don't fuck one of the members, and doesn't say that he never gets to voice his opinions in family dinners, and Derek usually just cuddles him after one of those arguments, doesn't make sexual advances for days. 

The fact that he won't have one of these arguments with Derek again makes Stiles sad, pulls him out of his bubble for a minute, but no longer. He won't be distracted. 

Stiles waves them off, listens as the door is locked and the cars take off, and then he walks into his room. 

There's only thing he wants to say, to one person. It takes five minutes for him to find the paper, decide what to write, actually write it down, and leave the note on his pillow. Somehow, he expected it to take longer. 

The master suite has a big bathtub; Stiles has been fucked in it more times than he can count. He wanders into it, contemplates filling up the bathtub and doing it there - water is supposed to help - but he eventually decides against that. He doesn't want to die somewhere he's been fucked, so that leaves the kitchen. 

Time moves oddly for him. It only took five minutes for him to write the note, but when he wanders into the kitchen, it's well past eight. His hands are trembling when he opens the knife drawer, and he closes his eyes for a minute. When he opens them again, it's close to nine, and that's all the push Stiles needs. He finds the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"Down the road, not across," he says, and then all he knows is pain, and release from pain.

\---

Dinner is torturous. Derek sits in silence, listens to his mother brag about Derek's degree and Cora's acceptance into Boston University, and grits his teeth through the entire meal. When she brings up Stiles and the potential for a new baby - "We can grow our pack!" - he walks out. 

"Mom will still love you best," Laura assures him, when she joins him a few minutes later. She tosses the keys to the Camaro at him, climbs into the passenger seat. "Which is mighty hard, all things considered. But not even a baby can replace you in her-"

"Shut up, Laura," Derek grits out, sliding into the car. He pulls out before she even has her seatbelt fully buckled. "I don't want a kid with Stiles."

"What's wrong with Stiles? He's cute and sweet and he'll make a great mother-"

"And he's fucking miserable, and none of you have noticed that. I'm not going to force a kid on someone who doesn't want one. And he's still a kid."

"He's 18. And yeah, he might be an omega, but he's smart-"

"Not old enough to have kids," he snarls. "I'm surprised you noticed he's smart, though, since you do nothing with him but fuck him." 

"What has you so upset?" Laura asks, holding up her hands. "He hasn't seemed that unhappy to me. Just a little mopey, and yeah, he was shocked earlier, but he'll come around."

Derek glances at his older sister, then looks away, and says nothing. He can't find the words and he really doesn't want to deal with any of his family at the moment. 

Everything seems normal when they get home, but the smell of blood is fresh and powerful, leading straight to the kitchen, and too intense to be just a simple cut. Laura and Derek look at each other, then bolt for the kitchen. 

Derek has his cell phone out, dialing 911 even before he sees Stiles, leaning limp against the cabinets, knife and a pool of blood beneath him.

"Oh god," Laura breathes. Her voice matches the horror Derek feels, and Derek can barely speak when the operator picks up.

"Suicide attempt, 345 Birchwood," he manages, then shoves the phone at Laura and sinks down beside Stiles, carefully feeling his neck for a pulse. It's faint but there, and he snaps, "Hurry," at Laura and the phone. 

\---

Laura's a deputy at the Sheriff's Station and knows they monitor ambulance and firehouse calls as well, so someone at the Sheriff's office heard her call, heard the dispatcher send an ambulance their way. That means John will hear about it eventually, and though Laura doesn't want to be the one to tell him, she calls him first.

"Stiles attempted suicide," she says, voice low. She dodges out of the way when the EMTs come through. "Meet us at the hospital."

Then she calls her parents, and when she hangs up, she's alone, staring at the pool of blood they found Stiles in. 

Laura's a cop; she's seen gruesome murders and atrocities that would make anyone hurl, and she's never flinched away or asked to be excused. This time, though, her dinner joins the blood.

\---

The first thing Laura hears when she gets to the hospital and joins her family is John screaming. "You told me he'd be happy," he says, and "How did you not fucking see this coming, you bitch." Parrish and another deputy have to hold him back.

Talia is sitting on a chair, face drained of color. "I thought he was," she whispers, to which Derek snorts and Peter laughs.

Laura sits, a few chairs away from her mother, and watches the argument. Derek's leaning against a wall, not paying attention, and Laura thinks about his words earlier. She'd thought he was wrong.

"Now, sister, you must have known something wasn't right."

"I just - I thought he needed more. A baby - omegas are meant to have babies - maybe if we hadn't waited so long."

"He wanted to go to college and have friends," Peter says. "Not have a baby."

"Omega's aren't meant to-"

"Shut the fuck up," John snarls, shaking everyone off him. He doesn't lunge for anyone, so that's a plus. "Last time I saw him, he looked unhappy. We talked about that-"

"He'd just been punished! Everyone is unhappy when they're punished."

"Not a week later. You assured me he'd be fine and he was happy." John scoffs. "I should have never done this."

"Omegas need packs, John. You know this."

"Omegas don't need shit. Claudia was fine."

"Claudia died!"

"Not because she was an omega who wasn't getting fucked enough." John snarls at her again, face twisted in rage, and Laura shrinks into her chair. No one else moves. "You convinced me, despite everything, that this would be the best. I let you take my kid away and only see him twice a year so he could adjust, and you promised - you fucking promised - you'd take care-" 

His voice breaks before he can finish, tears streaming from his eyes, and Parrish pulls him into a hug. Laura remembers seeing the Sheriff cry at Claudia's funeral, but he's always so stoic in the office that it surprises her a little, this display of heartfelt emotion. 

Laura meets Parrish' eye over John's shoulder. She likes Parrish, they've been flirting and casually dating, and there was a possibility for more there. But now, as he looks at her, she knows that will never happen. 

\---

It takes two days, but Stiles wakes up, disoriented and upset. They have him on enough sedatives that he can't protest too much, and he still feels light-headed from everything that happened. He knows he's not at home, and that, at least, keeps him mellow. 

That changes when Talia walks in. As his legal next-of-kin, she's the one they alert, the one they let in to see Stiles. The moment she walks in the door and Stiles spots her, he panics. 

He can't go back there. 

The effect is instantaneous. His blood pressure spikes, heart pounding painfully in his chest, and it feels like all of the air in the room suddenly disappears. 

"Stiles, I'm so-" Talia starts to say, but she doesn't get to finish her statement before a nurse pushes her out of the way, and a doctor walks inside the room. Talia gets shut out.

\---

"We aren't releasing Stiles into your custody," the attending physician, Dr. Deaton, tells Talia two days later. It's been four days, and they've cleared Stiles to return home. But he still panics at the sight of anyone from the pack. His dad and his former best friend are the only people who he can stand to see. 

"I will only release him into the care of someone who will take care of him," he continues, not letting anyone else speak. "Not undo everything we've done so far. And yes, I have the authority to do that."

"He's still our omega," Talia protests, but it is feeble.

"That doesn't mean you get to push him into attempting suicide and then get him back," the doctor snaps. "He's mentally unstable and prone to panic attacks when he sees you. His heart might just decide to stop."

Hyperbolic, but it makes Talia settle down, and she nods. "We'll sign temporary power-of-attorney over to John," she says. "He can take Stiles home."

\---

Part of his release paperwork included pre-scheduled therapy appointments. The first month, while his wrists heal, he doesn't have any, but once he has to start going in for physical therapy, mental therapy begins, too.

It's… terrible, at first. Dr. Morrell asks him a few questions, questions Stiles can't answer, then she settles down to wait for him to talk. 

The freedom of being able to talk when he wants, say what he wants, is new and not sitting easily. He keeps expecting to feel a gag in his mouth, or have someone shove his mouth on a cock, or guide it to a vagina. It never happens, but he's too used to it to relax right away. 

Morrell figures him out, eventually. She starts up conversations. 

"Do you know why omegas are given into big packs?" she asks, one day.

Stiles shakes his head. It's one thing he can't figure out.

"Under population, mostly, because omegas can have more kids than the beta female, usually giving birth to twins or triplets, and are fertile longer. It gets some diversity into families. It stuck around."

"The world is overpopulated now."

"And plenty diverse."

"So it's stupid to keep this up," Stiles says. "We don't need omegas having even more kids, not when women can have kids just fine and the world is overpopulated."

"Perhaps some omegas just liked being the submissive to a large family."

"Submissive." Stiles rolls his eyes. He knows about BDSM and what he was in wasn't even close to consensual BDSM. "You mean sex slave. And more power to them, if they like it. I-" He stops, unable to continue. 

"You what, Stiles?"

"I - I didn't," he whispers. 

\---

"Your mother, she was an omega?"

"Yeah." Stiles licks his lips, fiddles with his tee-shirt. 

"But she wasn't part of a big pack?"

"No." He pauses for a beat. Morrell is silent, waiting for him. "It never bothered her. The heats, I mean, or the not being part of a pack."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah. Dad - he told me, they started off going to the Hale's, when Talia's parents were still alive, at the beginning of their marriage. And she would have sex sometimes, but not all the time. And by the time I was five or six, they weren't going at all."

"But she died."

"Not - not because she was an omega. Dad assured me of that, showed me his research."

"And yet he let you go." 

"He thought he was doing the right thing."

"What do you think? Was he?"

"No."

\---

Some nights, he can feel phantom arms around him, and it makes him shudder. Fear, loathing, distaste, and a certain sense of longing. 

He ignores the latter, tries to focus on not feeling anything. Sometimes, in the middle of the night,  
\---

"Do you know what rights omegas have?" she asks another time.

"None. We're bound to the pack that takes us, and they have all of the rights."

"What about omegas who marry just one person?"

"Well, then their mate has all of the rights. Can do whatever they want to them."

"Not true." Morrell stares at him, intense and direct, and it scares Stiles a little, puts him on edge.

"What? They can beat them, not let them go anywhere, keep them hostage. So they can't kill an omega, big deal."

"None of that is true, Stiles. It's not talked about, but omegas do have rights. You're still a person. They can't take that away from you, can't keep you-"

"Oh, and how are we supposed to stay a person when I - when we get treated like sex slaves? How am I supposed to be more than a fucking toy, when they just take and take and-"

"And do what, Stiles?" 

The word pounds inside his skull. It's the word he's avoided for the past four years, but now it throbs inside his mind, gyrates across his tongue. 

"Rape. They raped me." 

Saying it is like opening the floodgates. Literally, actually, because he starts crying and doesn't stop for hours. He cries when his dad picks him up, cries when they sit together on the couch, cries until he can't cry anymore. 

Things aren't perfect after that - nowhere near - but they get better.

\---

His dad still has temporary custody, but it only lasts for six months, or until Stiles gets a clean bill of health. His wrists take work, and he fights his physical therapist, but the body heals. 

Heat hits, somewhere between three and four months after his suicide attempt. Stiles dreads it, fears the worst: he'll turn into a mindless sex thing, crying and begging for a knot, and turn to his father for relief. The doctor warned him it might be intense, since it'll be the first heat without his pack nearby. Stiles orders a knotting dildo one night, hopes it will work, fears it won't. 

When it finally hits, it's… not that bad, surprisingly. Oh it sucks, there's no denying that. He wants to be filled, wants to be fucked, wants to be held. He manages the first two, but the last is impossible. Stiles isn't going to seek out his father, not when he's dripping and desperate. Stiles in heat might be single-minded, focused only on pleasure, but he's not entirely mindless. 

The goes away after three days, and leaves him feeling exhausted but relaxed. The next day, he cuddles with his dad, and Scott when his friend comes over.

\---

Derek is the first person in the pack to approach him. Stiles hides in his room while his dad answers the door, having seen the Camaro from the window moments earlier. He can hear their voices, but not the words. 

Anxiety settles high and deep in his throat.

"Stiles," John calls, "come down here please." He comes up the stairs and looks in, beckoning. "It's nothing bad, I promise."

He doesn't want to, because it means leaving and returning to the house where he's nothing but a toy. The Hale's are probably annoyed with him, upset by the interruptions in their lives, and punishment will probably be severe. 

There's no stopping it, though. He's bound to them, legally, and they can take him any time they want. He was hoping for longer, though, more time with his father, his friend- more time to just be Stiles. 

There's a book on his desk that he hasn't had the chance to finish, and Stiles grabs it, shucks it across the room, sobs. John wraps an arm around his shoulder. 

"It's okay," he says. "Come listen to Derek."

There's no fighting it, and though he wants to scream, cry, or throw up, Stiles lets his dad walk him out of the room.

Derek looks ashamed, refuses to meet his eyes, when Stiles walks in the living room. He looks unhappy, and Stiles thinks, "Good," as it stirs the anger in his heart.

"I'm not here to take you home," Derek says. "Mom - Talia, she agreed to an annulment."

Derek passes over a folder of papers, thrusting them into Stiles' hands, and Stiles automatically grabs them. 

"There's been some money deposited into a bank account for you," Derek continues. "It's in your name, so no one can touch it. Use it for school."

So much is going on, even though it's not really a lot. Stiles can't make heads or tails of it, because nothing makes sense. Annulment? 

Derek must see something in his face, or his father's face more likely, because he hastens to add, "It's not… payment for services rendered or something. Just reparations." He looks back at Stiles again. "She really did think she was doing the right thing; she just refused to look at what was in front of her face."

It's not an apology, but it's all that Stiles will get. That, he understands right away. 

"If you ever need anything, call me," Derek says, as he leaves. 

It's anticlimactic, in the end, because he leaves quietly, and Stiles is left holding a folder full of papers he doesn't understand, and everything around him changes once again.

\---

"They let you go. How do you feel about that?" Morrell asks, a week later. Stiles understands the papers now. His arrangement has been annulled, he's been given back into his father's custody, and he doesn't have to see the Hale's again.

"Happy, I guess."

"You guess?"

"It feels weird. Like, I'm glad I don't have to go back, but I'm angry. They threw me away when things got tough, like I didn't even matter. Talia couldn't even face me, sent her son instead."

"Perhaps she thought she was doing you a favor by not showing up?"

She was, really. Last time he saw her, he ended up having a panic attack, and if she had shown up at his house, Stiles can't say how he would have reacted. 

"And the annulment was perhaps a gift, as well. You were so unhappy you tried to kill yourself, and came close to succeeding. They let you go, so you could find happiness."

"If they are that concerned for my happiness, they should have done something years ago." 

The rest of the session doesn't go well.

\---

"Have you considered the possibility that you are asexual?" Morrell asks, another time. 

"Yes," Stiles says. They're on the topic of sex, and at least this doesn't make him feel nauseated. "I don't know if I am. Before I moved in with the Hale's, I liked the idea of sex, and I wanted to have sex, and I was in love with Lydia Martin. But now…"

Morrell waits. 

"Now the thought of sex makes me sick. I don't want anyone to touch me. But saying I'm asexual because I experienced some terrible trauma - that feels kind of like cheating? And cheap, to say asexuality comes from trauma. 

"So, I don't know. I could be, but I could be straight,or gay, or I don't know, something else."

"There's no rush to figure it out, Stiles. And know that your trauma doesn't validate - or invalidate - your sexuality."

\---

John lets him enroll in college classes. Eventually, he moves away for a few years, gets his Bachelor's degree, meets people, makes friends. None of them go beyond friendship, and while he gets lonely sometimes, the idea of a relationship terrifies him.

Therapy happens bi-monthly at first, and then monthly. By the time he graduates, it's down to every six weeks, and Stiles feels like a human most days. He suffers through his heats alone, refuses to date, and is silent more often than not. 

But he's happy.

\---

Six weeks back from school, contemplating the merits of graduate school or getting a job, and he runs into Derek at a coffee shop. Derek looks good, and something stirs inside Stiles that he can't understand. It scares him a little - okay, a lot - but therapy's helped. He can face down Derek, without going into a panic.

It's stiff and awkward, but they manage small talk, and Derek gives Stiles his number again. Derek carefully doesn't mention his family, and Stiles doesn't think about how he knows what Derek looks like nude - though Derek has changed, grown a little bulkier, shoulders nice and wide; Stiles doesn't think about how those shoulders would feel beneath his cheek - and when Derek leaves, Stiles doesn't feel completely horrible. 

They start seeing each other occasionally. His dad worries, at first, but it's an old argument. John's not allowed to interfere with Stiles' love life or lack there of. Stiles is always careful not to bring up how John sent him away, but the knowledge lingers in John's eyes nonetheless. Derek makes Stiles feel safe, and when he finally tells his dad that, he stops fretting, at least openly. 

They move slowly. For a while, Stiles thinks about how nice it would be to return to the Hale mansion on the ten year anniversary of his arrival, now Derek's mate. But it doesn't happen like that, because they're still casually dating when the ten year anniversary arrives. Derek doesn't mention it, but squeezes his hand firmly when they walk in the park; Stiles squeezes back.

\---

"We're not going to have sex," Stiles says. "Maybe occasionally, but I can't - not often. Especially not during heats."

"That's fine," Derek reassures him. 

"I might kick you out during heats."

"Whatever you want, Stiles." Derek runs his thumb over Stiles' knuckles, kisses his palm. "I don't care if we never have sex again. I just want you, Stiles. I love you."

Stiles heart flutters, as it does every time Derek says that. He can't believe it still. After all this time, all these years, he never expected someone to love him. Never expected to love someone in return. Especially not Derek, a Hale. It's probably not healthy, or entirely good for him, but he's good at listening to his heart. 

It will take work. More work than he imagines, Stiles suspects. But he loves Derek, and Derek loves him, and he trusts that.

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles is given to the Hale's at 14. He spends four years as a sex slave to them. Very little of this is shown in graphic description. He's punished, Peter spanks and paddles him, and it's implied he is frequently denied dinner. He's treated as a child and given little to no choice in anything. 
> 
> Eventually, Talia tells him they plan to get him pregnant, and he attempts suicide. He is then released to his father and his arrangement with the Hale's annulled. He spends years in therapy. 
> 
> He ends up dating - and mating with - Derek, which Stiles recognizes is problematic.


End file.
